“Bob, I appreciate what you are trying to do for Mr.
Michaels and for us, too. But you aren’t giving us very much to work with,” William’s said.
Brady’s eyes smoldered. He looked like a restrained Rottweiler that needed feeding.
Bob took a breath, held it for a moment and released it. “I know it sounds weak, but it’s all I have. I want you to know there’s something to Josh’s claims. I don’t promise to understand it, but there’s something odd happening.”
Seeing the cops’ response was less than enthusiastic, Bob decided to keep Mark Keegan’s death and
the funeral wreath incident to himself. Information based on Josh’s gut feeling could be best described as weak even if it was bizarre. If they weren’t going with the best he had to give them, they weren’t about to be bowled over with the rest. He was reminded of something his fifth grade teacher used to say to him when she caught him daydreaming. “There’s no
point chasing after rainbows, Robert. You’ll never catch up to one.”
Bob knew Josh’s problems weren’t illusions. They
were problems worth chasing, but this wasn’t the place to start.
Williams asked, “Can you give us a description of the man?”
Bob detailed a description of the ordinary-looking man. He was amazed how hard it was to describe
Mitchell. He recalled the comment the cotton candy headed receptionist had made at the River City Inn.
“We have a lot of men here who fit that description.”
“Thank you, Bob.” The young, black officer wrote
down the description, but his enthusiastic smile couldn’t hide the fact he thought the information was useless.
“What happens now?” Bob asked.
“We will follow up on your claims and we’ll let you know in due course,” Williams said.
The answer straight out of the police training manual, Bob thought.
“But with what we have gotten from you and Mr.
Michaels, I’m not sure what we will turn up,”
Williams added.
Bob frowned. “Thanks for your time.”
“No problem at all, sir.” Officer Williams offered a hand.
Bob shook it and then Brady’s, who said nothing,
but glared intensely at him. Bob dismissed Brady’s attitude as sour grapes and let himself be shown out of the station.
Unlocking his car door, he noticed the fifteen minutes left on the thirty-minute parking meter. Someone
else’s lucky day, he thought as he got into his car and drove back to his office.
Back in his office, Bob stared out the window. Screw the cops, he thought. They won’t take this seriously until they had Josh’s corpse lying on the ground and
Mitchell standing over him with a smoking gun. If the police weren’t going to do anything, then he would.
Someone had to get to the bottom of the matter. Besides, he didn’t fancy telling Josh the police intended to do nothing. He wanted to give his friend something positive, but what? Then it came to him—what about Margaret Macey?
Bob called up Margaret Macey’s file on the computer.
He picked up the phone and dialed her number
off of the screen.
A trembling voice said, “Hello.”
“Is this Margaret Macey?” Bob asked.
“Yes.”
She was on the verge of tears. Her distress unnerved him. She sounded petrified. He spoke in a level tone, without emotion. “Hi, I’m Bob Deuce. Do you remember me at all?”
“No,” came the short response.
“I’m from Family Stop Insurance Services.”
“Oh, no. Not you again. You just want me dead. You want to kill me.”
The old woman transmitted her fear through the telephone line and into Bob. The hair on the back of his
neck prickled and sweat broke out across his forehead.
Stammering, he tried to explain himself, but he
couldn’t get her to understand him. She fired off outrageous accusation after outrageous accusation at him.
“I know it’s you and don’t tell me you’re the pizza boy this time. I’m not that stupid,” she raved.
Bob struggled to get a word in between her rants.
“No … no … Mrs. Macey, you don’t understand.
You’re not listening.”
“I knew it was you calling. I can always tell, and I know you’ve been inside my house.”
“But Mrs. Macey—”
“You won’t hurt me, you bastard!”
Before he could say anything further the phone line went dead. Margaret Macey had hung up.
The encounter left him breathless. He sat there for several minutes trying to let his heart rate settle. The sound of his blood pumping around his body sloshed in his ears. He felt very old for his age. He wiped the sweat from his brow. What the hell had happened to this woman?
“Well, that wasn’t the positive news I was hoping to give you, Josh,” Bob muttered to himself.
Josh and Kate didn’t speak. They sat at either end of the couch with a distance between them measurable in more than just feet. Abby was in bed asleep. Prime time television had come to an end, making way for the nightly news. The station went to commercial. A preview for the Channel 3 News flashed up and the anchor
ran through the main stories for the upcoming
program. The lead story was something Josh had been expecting.
“More on that exclusive to Channel Three— corruption in the construction of the Mountain Vista Apartments in Dixon. Our source has named names involved,”
the anchor said.
Flatly, Kate spoke over the television. “Is that you?”
“I imagine so,” Josh said in the same tone.
Sitting in renewed silence, Josh braced himself for the news program to start.
The news began with a summary of the headlines before the concerned-looking anchor went into the lead
story.
“Last week, we brought you an exclusive story about the alleged scandal over the building of the Mountain Vista apartments in Dixon. Our source, who still
wishes to remain nameless at this point, has provided further details of the corrupt activities conducted during the building of the apartments.
“Allegedly, Johnston Construction, Inc. intentionally built the apartments below standard to ensure
they made a substantial profit. Knowing full well the construction wouldn’t pass the inspection, Johnston Construction’s owner, Mike Johnston, bribed the
building inspector, Joshua Michaels. Our source alleges Mr. Michaels accepted ten thousand dollars
from Mr. Johnston.
“I must express we as yet have not sought comment from either Mike Johnston or Joshua Michaels.”
The anchor introduced the field reporter and the
camera switched to the reporter outside the Dixon apartments. The reporter relayed information similar to what the anchor had expressed.
